


Two and two

by Carnivore



Series: OT4: White and Red [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Banter, Bonding, Developing Relationship, Dirty Jokes, Dirty Talk, Drama, Drunk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Foursome, Frag Party, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Puns & Word Play, Sexual Humor, Shower Sex, Spark touching, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:39:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4076452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carnivore/pseuds/Carnivore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rung's head is all right and Red Alert becomes his sparkmate - would they live happily ever after? Wouldn't that be boring?</p><p>It happens so that Skids also has a crush on Rung, and Skids' boyfriend is conveniently the roommate of Rung's lover. What a sitcom! And honestly, Swerve enjoys the role of a matchmaker. Instead of his usual pranks and tomfoolery, the minibot uses his people skills to bring everyone together. The following frag party could be blamed on him, but the truth is, drunk and happy and well-fragged people aren't likely to complain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

\- Aren’t you going anywhere? There isn’t usually much opportunity to go out... unless you’ve got a riveting duty, and then there’s nothing to look at… except rivets. And stars. Which after a couple hours start to look like nothing more than space rivets, - Swerve chuckled at his own banter, but his roommate didn’t react to the joke. Red Alert just sat there on his berth staring at the ceiling.

\- I don’t feel very well…

\- It’s because of Rung’s date, I know. Don’t worry… well, I can’t keep you from worrying, but don’t worry too much: Skids is a good mech. He can be a little careless sometimes… oh no, - he caught himself as Red Alert let out a particularly mournful sigh. - He did save Rung from the sparkeater after all.

\- Because I failed my duty! - Red was sinking into despair by the minute. - I couldn’t keep him safe! I’m no good for him. I couldn’t prevent the hostage situation. He’d lost a limb right before my eyes, too, and I did nothing!

\- It wasn’t your duty _then_ , he wasn’t even on the ship, - Swerve said slyly, but of course it didn’t help. His roommate wasn’t in the mood for irony, he was hardly ever in a humorous mood. Red Alert only smiled when he was with Rung.

\- You know what? Rung’d be very upset if I left you here like this. I maybe wanna go to the virtual reality movies and the karaoke bar and everything… But that’s gotta be tomorrow. ‘Cos I’m staying with you.

\- You don’t have to… Honestly, go have fun, I’ll get by. I don’t deserve this...

\- Okay, think of it this way: sometimes a mech needs a lazy day off, even if that mech is me. You’ll be surprised but even I can get tired of crowds. - He couldn’t, and neither was he a skilled liar, but Red didn’t notice that in such a state. He didn’t even see the minibot reach into his secret stash, which held so many suspicious things that any director of security would confiscate in a sparkbeat. - Want a drink?

 

* * *

 

Swerve had been always surprised how much people hesitated when it came to starting a relationship. Rung had to be _nearly shot in the head_ before Red finally had the courage to confess his feelings. Or, rather, he was scared out of his wits too much to be embarrassed anymore. And Swerve had already been thinking what to do about his rommate saying his psychiatrist’s name when he was offline.

In the end all he had to do was leave the hab suite at their disposal and spend the night in the bar with Skids, who _also_ confessed that he’d been dreaming of Rung ever since he snatched him out of the sparkeater’s way. That’s when Swerve himself became curious what was so special about the nerd, so he took to watching him with Red (which wasn’t easy because they were so secretive, but one shouldn’t underestimate a minibot who was inventive and also exceptionally nosy). And the display of feelings, their tenderness and passion and deep mutual care had left him in quiet reverence.

Red wasn’t the romantic and adventurous type that would take his partner on a date. He preferred the role of Rung’s personal bodyguard, quietly following him around and giving him the sweetest cuddles when he thought no one was looking. Red might be a nervous, insecure, high-maintenance partner but his absolute devotion to Rung was a thing to admire. Sometimes Swerve himself felt a little envious of their ability to experience affection on such a deep level. He wasn’t the jealous type, but he could guess why Red might be, even though the minibot’s understanding of people was mostly intuitive.

Mechs like Rung might see him as a shallow party-goer, and it was true that the meaning of his life could be summed up to making people happy so that he could be happy among them. But it was also the reason why Swerve took it upon himself to bring Skids together with the mech of his dreams without hurting anyone’s feelings in the process. Even if that someone was just the cranky roommate he used to tease and play tricks on, who had been nothing but annoyed by the minibot’s antics and endless banter.

The chastising Rung had given Swerve when he learned about his pranks (through Ratchet, no doubt) had somehow made him feel responsible for Red’s mental health. And lately a lot of things had happened that changed Swerve’s outlook so much he actually began to think before blabbing things out - Red noticed and appreciated that. Swerve found that his prank-free time could be effectively spent in the shooting range improving his aim, because _unfortunately_ there still were things that had to be settled with shooting. Rung watched and encouraged his efforts to become a better mech, paying friendly visits to the bar more often than he used to, sometimes accompanied by his newfound sparkmate.

That’s when Skids got the chance to work his charms on both of them - and his personal magnetism was second to none.

 

* * *

 

\- So… Skids likes Rung.

\- No, - Swerve corrected, - he likes you _both_. But he’s helm over wheels in love with Rung. Huh, in my head it didn’t sound _that_ _blunt..._  - his nervous speech trailed off into nothing as Rung put a soothing hand on his forearm.

\- But… - Red was at a loss. He couldn’t even form a coherent objection, other than stating that he didn’t quite trust the mech. But it was just _his_ own distrust, and besides, everyone already knew about it. Otherwise they wouldn’t be discussing it with such gravity in their tones. In _Swerve’s_ tone, for Primus’s sake! As if they expected him to react like he was a director of _drama_ instead of security.

No. He was _recovering_. And he wasn’t going to be _possessive,_ even if he had to stomp out that ugly feeling along with his blasted paranoia. No one was to be blamed for loving a wonderful mech like Rung.

\- Rung… I know pretty well what you think on this matter. What you’d say to convince me that he needs it, or that I shouldn’t feel guilty for not approving… and that you’d never leave me for someone because exclusion is _never_ the right choice… but well, you don’t have to say _anything_ , ‘cos I’ve already got so much of your knowledge soaked into me that I might as well be your assistant, - he held Rung’s hand and Rung was looking at him with gratitude. - And I don’t even want to think about _priorities_ , no, it’s so disgusting to even put the words “feelings” and “priorities” in one sentence. It’s your decision, Rung, and I trust you, and I’ll _make efforts_ to trust in anyone you find trustworthy. Just… stay safe.

 

* * *

 

Rung came back a little tipsy and Skids was drunk on happiness. Tonight was the rare night when booze would only ruin the perfection.

Naturally, the first thing Rung did was check up on his beloved patient.

\- Sorry, I’m so wasted… - Red Alert croaked, leaning against the wall and even holding onto the edges of the berth: the world seemed so unsteady around him that he was afraid to fall off. Though he was more afraid to fall onto Rung, who sat down beside him saying nothing and just embracing his arm, which was as thick as the psychiatrist’s waist.

\- I thought it was better for him than brooding all day, - Swerve said apologetically, sweeping up the mess of bottles and snack wrappings in one heap to hide it under his berth. The minibot himself hadn’t drunk as much as he stuffed his mouth, partly to keep useless comments from escaping it as they watched movies on their hab-suite’s small screen. But Red Alert had been cradling a large pitcher of mid-grade against his chest, never letting go of that silly pink straw in the corner of his mouth, and hardly even ate anything. Telling Rung he was okay with his date had been one thing, but actually being okay proved to be difficult.

\- He was nice… the movies, nice too... - the red mech told his concerned sparkmate with a slack, lopsided smile. - Tomorrow morning, maybe not so nice... He did what he could. Don’t be upset…

\- It’s okay, Red, - Rung cooed, leaning closer to kiss him on the helm. - Tomorrow you’re going to feel better... We can go sight-seeing. Since Swerve has proved to be a good rommate, he can go with us, - Rung smiled at the minibot, who practically beamed at the praise. That was a major reason Swerve had been trying to behave: the gentle mech’s praise was  _addictive._

\- Woah, Swervester the incredible roommate! Didn’t know you had it in you, buddy, - Skids said in a mock surprise, looming in the doorframe.

Rung, who seemed to have forgotten about him, finally looked his way and waved him in. Being unnoticed this way would’ve stung his feelings any other day, but tonight his dream came true; after waiting for so long he’d had so much of Rung he was overcharged with happiness. He wanted to share it with everyone in this room,  _especially_  with the poor drunk mech who looked like he needed it most. He sat on the other side of Red’s berth, putting a hand on the massive red-and-white shoulder. The paranoiac twitched at the unfamiliar touch, and Skids received a glance from Rung. An uncertain glance… it was a rare case when the beautiful nerd didn’t know what to do. But Skids knew… and he was made for risks. Remembering what Swerve had told him Rung often did, he lowered his head to Red’s audio sensor and gently hummed.

Red turned to stare him right in the eye, bewildered but thankfully not disgusted. Their noses almost bumped. Skids suppressed his urge to smirk, as the smirk was his default reaction to nearly anything, and kept a mellow smile instead, half-dimming his optics, making their golden light most comfortable for the close view. The gesture was successful: Red subconsciously mirrored it, which in its own turn calmed him a little. Skids knew many bots liked the warm color of his optics: Rung had complimented on it not one but several times that day. His precious little Rung… Skids  _owed_  it to him to make his anxious sparkmate feel better. Rung could never have a happy relationship with him if Red was left out.

Meanwhile the paranoiac’s expression slowly mellowed out to a slightly questioning look. Skids considered just kissing him then and there, but that didn’t seem to be the best tactics with him. Instead he began to stroke Red’s shoulder in a friendly, calming way. Red closed his optics, turning slightly away: by the look of his face he became a little flustered. The help came from the other side: Rung started to stroke his partner as well, whispering sweet nonsense into his audio, and Red’s attention turned solely to him. Meanwhile Skids looked around the room to find Swerve right at his side. The minibot did something no one would believe he’d ever do: he brought an index to his lips in a “hush” gesture. Then he sucked on the finger and  _winked._

Skids could  _swear_  it all was his prankster boyfriend’s plan, if he didn’t believe that Swerve had a nature too spontaneous to plan ahead. They were so alike in this: two good-natured outgoing people, perfect for each other but craving for variety more often than they would admit to each other. Only what was in front of them wasn’t just variety, it was a truly _exotic_ duo of mechs: a sweet, delicate person whose mere presence would make even a Decepticon a little nicer; and a somber mech whose thick armor hid a surprisingly soft core, who’d make you feel so special if you managed to earn his trust.

Slowly but steadily Skids’s hand found its way to his back, settling on the red hood but venturing no further: for now his stout neck was solely Rung’s domain. Red threw back his head, exposing the seams and cables of his throat to the touch of Rung’s lips and agile little fingers. It didn’t look like he paid the slightest attention to Skids, but his hands stopped clutching the edges of the berth, trusting the strong blue arm around his frame to keep him steady. Red’s hands were free to adopt their favourite positions on Rung’s body, and Skids’ role in this change didn’t go unnoticed. For a moment his glance and Rung’s met again: his aquamarine optics shone so bright through the glasses, his heavenly face beaming love onto everyone who was around, loving everyone just because they existed. It wasn’t only Skids who caught this glance: behind his shoulder Swerve stood almost mesmerized by its brilliance. The brightest spark, they say… and they were touched by its light, blessed by its love, and the usually talkative mech didn’t know what to do, except to lean closer to his partner. In a familiar gesture Skids’ arm encircled his waist, lifting the minibot to seat him on his lap.

The warm huddle of mech bodies only grew closer as Rung made a move to get on top of Red and Skids lent him a helpful hand. He spread his arms around all three of them, overjoyed at the opportunity to touch Rung again, even though the orange mech was preoccupied with someone else’s lips and the hand around his aft was not one of his own.

Meanwhile one of Swerve’s curiously large hands reached out to Rung’s chest, towards the spark he had found so hypnotic. His finger traced the rim of its circular frame, making Rung shudder with pleasure, which echoed through his own spark as their energy flows started to seep into each other’s. Swerve had never been so close to a spark that wasn’t hidden under several layers of metal: its pulsing energy lured him like a magnet. His fingers ventured further while his other hand lay on Rung’s back, increasing the contact area and caressing the smooth metal, slowly descending until it met Red’s hand. Its fingers twitched a little, and Swerve gave the white hand a few reassuring strokes before it retreated lower to caress Rung’s panels. Which reacted to the stimulation almost instantly, letting the beloved fingers right in.

In fact, both of his panels opened, and for the first time Swerve saw the psychiatrist’s beautiful slender spike. He grinned back at Skids, who shifted his arm, wedging it under Red’s so that he still supported his frame while taking  _the opportunity_  in his skillful hand. The next moment, Swerve felt the familiar warmth of a large spike pressed against his back. Did he need to resist the urge? No, he simply couldn’t, especially after he’d seen Red’s formidable equipment unsheathe and pressurize. He freed himself from the panels as well, dripping lubricant onto Skids’s lap.

He couldn’t decide where exactly to apply his one free hand: both his spike and valve craved for attention - but in a few moments  _a third option_  presented itself. Stimulated by three hands at once, Rung was making the sweetest sounds, and his body trembled slightly as he was brought to overload. The brightest spark began to pulse under Swerve’s palm, sending waves of pleasure into his core. He caught the wave and he rode it, a few quick strokes to his spike bringing him right to the top.

His fingers dripping with transfluid which still had charge in it, Swerve shoved them straight into his valve to enjoy the tingling sensation. Some ‘bots would find this habit repulsive, but definitely not Skids, who went as far as to lick Rung’s transfluid from his fingers, closing his optics in bliss as he savoured the taste of the mech he desired so much. Swerve could guess pretty well what his partner was imagining when he sucked his finger like that… It was quite an arousing image, and he licked his lips at the thought that it was just the beginning...

It had been his plan indeed to end this most miserable day of his existence with a glorious interfacing party, even if that meant that he’d have to keep silent the whole time. He felt strangely content with just the sounds of metal bodies grinding against each other, the four sets of vents working at their full capacity, the scents of individual lubricants mixing into one thick, luscious aroma - taking it in all at once, his senses were so overwhelmed there was no space left for words. Besides, he didn’t have to be  _completely_  silent, no one here was… 

Skids produced a sort of small throaty growls he usually made when he was horny but concentrated: grinding his spike against Swerve’s back in small rhythmic movements, he applied his deft, slick, satisfyingly thick fingers to the minibot’s valve.

The noises Rung was making mostly consisted of breathy moans and an occasional soft encouragement for Red. Swerve felt a little jealous of his rommate’s soft-mannered lover and the quiet, affectionate words that were reserved solely for his sensitive hearing.

As for Red himself, he tried to keep quiet but his venting was deep and ragged as he struggled with overheat. A low, suppressed rumble escaped his vocals now and then, but there were moments when he forgot himself, like it happened when Rung practically skewered himself on his spike: his “Aagh!..” was sure to be heard in the corridors, a sound so hearty and delicious that it made Swerve reconsider his life choices: why did he play tricks on Red and generally annoy him when instead he could be riding his spike happily every night? If only Swerve had known how to shut up… but the only time he could shut up was when he was fragging, especially if there was a thick spike in his mouth. If only he’d let his roommate know the way to shut him up Red would’ve surely obliged!

In normal circimstances Swerve would continue this hilarious train of thought, chuckling mentally at the phrase “I only shut up when I’m having sex!”, only right in front of him there was a spectacularly arousing sight of Rung, his lithe frame mounted on Red’s huge spike, writhing and moaning and making his own valve ache to be filled with something more than a couple of unmoving fingers. He glanced up at Skids: the large mech’s golden optics were wide and mesmerised with the sight of Rung’s body going up and down, back and forth, riding the spike like there was no tomorrow and no need to walk. By the look of Skids, he’d be happy to frag the psychiatrist sore and then carry him around all day. He looked almost comical: there was an actual thread of drool in the corner of his mouth. Half of Swerve wanted to giggle at him, but the other half felt uncharasteristically sad.

The minibot produced a whining sound to snap his partner out of the trance. He was promptly hoisted up, and a spike was sunk into him rather unceremoniously: his valve burned for a moment and then clenched hungrily around it. In that respect he was wider that Rung, and Skids’s equipment was not as thick as it was long and shapely, but he still needed preparation and couldn’t even wrap his thoughts around Rung’s ability to accomodate a spike of Red’s size. He must be doing it through the sheer power of love, Swerve concluded as he was staring at the amount of lubricants that pooled on Red’s pelvic plates and leaked onto the berth, his hands clinging to the edge of it as his whole rear part was held in the air and pounded so vigorously that he didn’t moan as much as he yelped like a turbofox. The sounds that  _he_  produced while interfacing were a whole different story.

***

\- D’you always zonk out when you overload?

Red’s vision came back online to the sight of Swerve’s face, which showed two thirds of sneer and one third of concern.

\- Nah… I’m not usually that drunk, - Red propped himself up, looking in the general direction of the sounds that had awakened him.

A trail of fluids led to the other side of the room, where Skids was cleaning up the mess that was Rung. The slender mech was splayed on the berth half-conscious, an occasional shudder going through his body as a long, agile glossa slid along the seams of his inner thighs, one leg resting on the bigger mech’s shoulder, white-and-orange so beautiful against the blue.

\- It was such a discharge! Rung screamed static, so  _ec-static_ , - Swerve’s tone emphasized the pun, - and you… well, your vocals must’ve shut down before  _you_  did, but your eyes flashed white! It was kinda scary, to be honest. And you made such a mess, tsk-tsk, - the minibot noted, sitting in his own pool of fluids on the edge of the berth.

\- Must be the drinks too, - Red half-smirked. - Metabolized, ya know. Too much fluid in the system.

It looked like Skids didn’t care in the slightest whose fluids he was consuming: his attention was devoted solely to his task and to Rung. Kneeling in front of the berth, he was licking and kissing every inch of him, savoring every moment, worshipping his body. Rung’s gasps and moans were beautiful music as the fingers in his valve pressed just the right nodes; his spike was licked and sucked and even nuzzled with a reverent affection.

\- Feeling better? - Red’s wistful look was drawn away from a most beautiful scene to the face of his roommate, which showed no grin but an unusual soft smile: he had been watching too. - They’re soo… I can’t even describe. Magical. Erm… what’s that "C" word associated with heavens? Cerulean? Ce…

A heavy hand was put on his shoulder tire, squeezing it lightly to make him stop.

\- Just as I thought you’d finally behave… - Red sighed.

\- Wanna shut me up? - Swerve smirked, tilting his head as he leaned closer for a kiss.

 It was a surprisingly soft experience: Red’s glossa was shy but his mouth was so inviting, large gentle lips sucking tenderly on the other’s. It must’ve been Rung who taught him to kiss, or maybe it was just in his nature - Swerve was no analyst, he was more of an opportunist. He crawled onto Red’s lap, the mischievous fingers promptly finding the seams on his broad sides. His rommate chose not to waste time on such trifles: he just pulled the minibot’s whole body into a giant cozy hug.

Nevermind the pranks, the chatter, all the jokes at his expense - underneath the grumpy exterior, Red Alert had a kindest spark, and now was the moment he unclosed it to Swerve. Holding him against his chest, slowly stroking his back, he pulled away from the kiss just to plant more kisses onto Swerve’s cheeks, chin and even visor. His lips unsealed, the overwhelmed minibot just managed to whisper “I’m sorry I ever…” before the large mech went “Shhh…” and kissed him right on the nose. Swerve giggled, nuzzling his face, and Red smiled against his cheek. Very carefully the minibot raised a hand to the side of his helm, stroking the audio sensor, and was rewarded with a deep hearty sigh. Red’s helm was smooth and nicely polished, pleasant to the touch - even more so because it held his most sensitive parts he was entrusting to Swerve’s fingers. The minibot had seen what could be done to these audios, how a certain voice could bring Red to the verge of overload, and for a moment he regretted that his own voice just wasn’t good enough.

Red’s favourite voice was gasping and sobbing in bliss. On the berth next to them, clasping its edges, the owner of that voice arched his back in a climax so acute it was almost painful. Almost painful to watch… Finally Rung’s body fell still on the berth with a dull “clank”, and Skids’s lips pulled away from the spike that went flat and dry, letting it slide back into its housing, gathering a stray drop of transfluid from the panel closed shut. The fingers pulled away from the valve, coated with a layer of lubricant as thick as energon jam and probably just as delicious. The way Skids licked it from his fingers made Swerve want to have a taste of Rung himself - but alas, his third overload made the delicate mech go completely offline.

Skids picked him up, cradling the sleeping mech against his chest as he seated himself next to the red-and-white pile of cuddles, which untangled itself to admire the peaceful smile on Rung’s face.

 - Look at him… Isn’t he a miracle? Who else would’ve brought us all together? We two are just troublemakers, and you’re on the side of the law. Oh, Red… you’re so lucky he chose you. He  _loves_  you…

\- I’m not entirely comfortable discussing our relationship, - Red spoke slowly, choosing the words carefully so that he wouldn’t sound offensively distrustful. He might’ve just interfaced with Rung in front of this mech (in a much drunker state, to be noted) but genuine feelings were something more intimate to him. - But you… did much good for him, - he didn’t want to mention the event which brough up so much guilt in him. The unnecessary guilt Rung had advised him to leave behind, and his way of doing so was giving a wide berth to the memory and the words associated with it. - You’re so gentle with him. You  _look good_  together.

\- As do you two, - Skids nodded at the red arm wrapped around his boyfriend’s midsection, and Red looked a little embarrassed as Swerve made an emphasis by nuzzling against Red’s chest. - Matching colors and all.

\- Hey, Red, - Swerve’s tone changed slightly as he looked up at the bigger mech’s face. - I never got the chance to do that, so… can I kiss Rung?

\- W-why would you ask me? - Red hesitated. - Well, obviously he’s unavailable to ask, but…

\- ...He wouldn’t mind if you asked him, - Skids concluded, holding out Rung closer to the minibot. - Especially after you connected to his spark. I felt it too, you know. Like we were all connected to each other. Such a beautiful feeling… - his speech trailed off into nothing as he watched Swerve lean over the sleeping mech to plant a chaste, reverent kiss on his lips. This wasn’t like Swerve at all… How did Rung manage to bring out the best from the deepest parts of everyone’s spark? This was a mystery Skids had yet to uncover...

They placed Rung on the cleaner berth, and then just stood around it a little longer, admiring his peaceful, beautiful face - until a quickly bored minibot ruined the silence:

\- Guess we should hit the wash racks. Red - you lead the way, so that we don’t bump into Magnus or something. I wouldn’t mind Rodimus though: he seems like the type who loves a good frag!

\- You bet! - Skids grinned enthusiastically. - I’d love to get my hands on our captain’s shapely aft!

\- Do you guys always talk about everyone’s parts like that? - Red was a little flustered with their shameless banter.

\- What’s wrong with that? It’s only natural to admire a nice round shape…

\- ...personally I’m more about beautiful elongated shapes…

\- Oh Primus, what have I got myself into… - Red mumbled.

\- It’s more about  _who_  you get yourself into, - Swerve nudged him with an elbow, though considering their height difference the part of Red that got nudged was his thigh, which didn’t help his embarrassment.

\- I mean, you’re so  _open_  about it, like you’d even do it in the corridors…

\- Of course we did!

\- ...Or on your bar counter…

\- It was  _closed_  at that time!

\- I think I even  _heard_  you a few times…

\- Glad to be of service…  _for your self service!_

\- Unf... - Red buried his face in his hand. - You’re  _impossible_ , both of you!..

\- And incredibly sexy! C’mon, just admit it!

\- You know, Swerve, I was  _considering_  that…

\- ...what, fragging me? Oh  _please_  frag me, right now and any other time!

-  _Not when you talk about it like this!_  - Red’s tone became almost hysterical.

\- C’mon Swerve, not everyone enjoys dirty talk, - Skids said in a pacifying tone. - Why don’t we just… be quiet for a moment? We don’t want too much attention in the corridors, do we?

 

 

 

 


	2. Three's the magic number

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knows what usually happens in the wash racks, beside the washing. Even though Red's anxiety tries to spoil the fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This sort of speech, - is what was said definitely and clearly, while "This sort of speech", - is what needs to be smoothly weaved into the text as a part of the experience rather than as important information. The character can't clearly tell apart the actual words from his own thoughts. That must be a very good frag indeed :3

Red was grumpy and silent, the color of his face nearly fitting his nickname as they walked out of the hab suite heading for the wash racks. It was late and everyone who didn’t stay in the city for the night was recharging, so they got there without any embarrassing encounters. The troublemaker boyfriends got into a cabin together, making a lot of clanking and giggles but thankfully leaving Red alone in his stall under a warm soothing flow of water.

But his peaceful time didn’t last as long as he’d like to: he heard footsteps of a tall fugure approaching him from behind, his tread lighter than it was common for mechs of his frame type - and Red knew many people just by the sound of their footsteps. He lived in the world of sounds, an audio map of his surroundings always present in his mind. He had learned to filter the sounds and ignore the unnecessary input, but he hated to remember the first moments after his audials were installed: it had felt like the whole world exploded into chaos. He’d had to adjust the sensitivity to a comfortable level until he got used to it, and Rung advised to turn it down now and then: being constantly aware of his surroundings put Red Alert under a lot of stress. His paranoia rarely let him follow the advice, but eventually his brain learned to deal with the noise without any conscious efforts, adjusting the sensitivity on the go and shutting it down completely in the recharge mode. Right now it was set on a low level, so that harmless drops of water wouldn’t feel like hailstones against his helm. Still his sensors registered Skids’ peculiarly light footsteps coming to a halt behind him, his vents drawing a smooth intake of air as he leaned close to his audio and inquired in a soothing, intimate tone:

\- Red… do you like music?

\- I don’t know why you’re asking it _now_... but yes, I do, - he tried to keep his voice level, even though the other mech’s intentions were perfectly clear. 

He understood that Rung would prefer his lovers to trust each other - and he’d do anything for Rung. The haze of intoxication and afterglow hadn’t fully worn off, and more than everything Red wanted to give in… The only thing that didn’t agree with his plans was an uncontrollable surge of panic that started to spread through his circuits despite his best efforts to resist it.

\- L-listen, Skids… I can’t, - turning halfway to look at the golden optics, he rose his arms to his chestplate in a familiar self-protective gesture.

\- Why? I don’t mean you any harm… I never did, - the instincts told Skids it was the exact moment to be extra careful. Instead of moving closer to the mech, who was slowly backing away into the corner, he assumed a non-threatening posture, chest open and palms held out to the other.

\- It’s just me, I c-can’t... do anything about it, - he murmured, watching Skids with big anxious optics.

It was a look of someone in dire need of protection and reassurance. It gave Skids an idea.

\- Keep talking, - he prompted.

\- I’m not opposed to… You’re good. You’re... _handsome._

\- It’s very pleasant to hear, Red. The impression is mutual, - It wasn’t difficult to mimic Rung’s manner of speech after a whole day spent together. What could possibly made it difficult was Swerve’s curious head peeking from behind the cabin’s wall. He wasn’t saying anything and Red hadn’t noticed him yet but Skids gently pushed him away with his hip just in case. Thankfully the minibot hadn’t turned off the water in his stall and the noise of two showers drowned the unnecessary sounds. 

The calming, peaceful rhytm of water falling onto metallic bodies, running down in intricate rivulets. A translucent liquid curtain flowing over the edge of Red’s helm, gleaming as it caught the light of his optics. The beauty and sadness of the moment made the spark under Skids’s chestplate throb with compassion.

\- It is fine, Red... it’s just a faulty circuit somewhere in your system. Stay still and let it pass… It’s not your fault in the least.

\- You sound like Rung, - the paranoiac noted with a faint smile.

\- Yes, think of Rung… close your eyes and imagine Rung smiling at you. And, maybe… if you want, you could give me your hand…

Perhaps among Skids’s many talents there was a streak that could've made him a good psychiatrist. Red held onto his hand as if it was his anchor to reality. Optics shut tight, he followed the gentle, reassuring voice, moving slowly but steadily into the waiting arms of Skids. As much as the blue mech wanted to embrace him, he gathered up whatever patience he had and simply waited, barely applying any pressure to the other’s hand. He was surprised to feel Red’s arms wrap around his waist, grabbing onto him so tightly as if the poor mech was drowning. Only then did Skids take him into a careful embrace, stroking the broad back and just humming into his audio, for he was at a loss of words: coming from Red, such a gesture was practically a leap of faith.

Another idea presented itself to Skids, and his tuneless hum changed into a slow motif. Then, holding the slightly dazed mech in his arms and subtly swaying both their bodies to the rhythm, he began to sing.

It was one of the reasons why Skids always wanted to know if people likes music. He was a little shy of his singing, as he didn’t want to be seen as an overly sentimental mech. It was a core part of him that he showed to few, but now he felt like his cozy little circle of music lovers was complete. Tonight he had sung a serenade to Rung and was rewarded with a long, fervent kiss. And now he’d won the last piece of this puzzle, a bashful mech with most beautiful shoulders, who was now nuzzling against his neck, all his worries forgotten.

This time when Swerve showed up he wasn’t waved off. He considered joining the huddle but his height would only allow him to embrace the taller mechs' legs. He honestly didn’t want to ruin the mood with any talking (and, by Primus’s sake, Skids performing an otherwise innocent song with his most seductive voice sounded so hypnotic) so he busied himself with the task they came here for in the first place. He brought a nice soapy sponge and started with Skids’s legs, scrubbing the coagulated fluids out of the seams, moving up from the knees to the areas that required more careful handling. Here and there the sponge also brushed against Red’s legs, and seeing that he did not protest, Swerve relocated his activity, being twice as careful, glancing up from time to time to check his reaction. Red’s head was resting on Skids’s prominent chest; his faraway gaze didn’t stay on Swerve as much as it came _through_ him. His thighs didn’t show many stains, as he’d been in a horizontal position, but his aft and panels were a Primus-awful mess. For this Swerve needed more soap on his sponge… or maybe he didn’t, because the two were _bound_ _to_ frag, and it would save him a lot of work if their panels were cleaned afterwards.

Thinking of that as he was staring at their afts and panels, which were conveniently at his line of sight, Swerve began to leak. It was all right because he hadn’t washed his lower parts, as he’d been busy spying on the whole panic attack ordeal. Though Skids had scrubbed his frame before he went off - not without a great deal of tickling, which had been the source of most giggles coming from their cabin (some of the giggles came from Skids when he got headbutted in the stomach). There were brushes with long handles with which even Swerve could reach his own back, but for him washing alone was a very sad business.

As he got aroused, the scene started to look a little sleepy for his taste. “Nothing happens without Swerve”, - he thought mischievously, pressing the sponge against his boyfriend’s aft and rubbing it in small circles while moving it down, then dragging it teasingly along the gap between his pelvis and a thigh.

Skids’s vocals hitched, and Red raised his head to look into his face, blinking away the trance - and before his senses (and anxiety) came back to him, Skids pressed his lips to his: wet and gleaming, they were parted slightly and looked so inviting… The kiss was tentative and careful, to study the boundaries rather than to cross them, and when Red pulled away, Skids did not persist.

\- Skids... sorry, - for a moment the blue mech’s spark froze, - but I’d rather listen to you talk.

Somewhere below, Swerve’s visor lit up with envy: no one had ever said that to _him!_

\- I really like your voice, - Red confessed with a small awkward smile.

\- You do? - Skids raised a brow ridge, not exactly surprised by the news but relieved that he didn’t ruin everything.

\- Yes, I’ve even mentioned it to Rung… And haven’t he told you we listen to music?

\- No, Red, he didn’t tell me anything about you - and I didn’t ask. You know, there’s a pretty solid reason he’s got your trust... - the short, meaningful pause was filled with gentle murmur of water. - As for me, I’d like to learn about you myself. Whatever you choose to tell me and what you’d rather keep to yourself is entirely your decision. And honestly, I’d like to know _everything_ about you, - Skids pressed his forehelm against Red’s to look him right in the optics. -  Not because you’re quite important on the ship and I’m a schemer or something. Only because this way I’d know how to do right by you; just so I can avoid doing anything that scares or hurts you. You don’t like it when people come behind you, right?

\- No, not really, I… - Red stumbled in a hurry to explain the mech that nothing was his fault, which resulted in oral lubricant getting into his vocals: he gave a few coughs, and Skids patted him on the back in a soothing way. - I’m quite aware what people are doing without seeing them. There were times when I was… a lot more jumpy, but Rung taught me how to deal with that. I used to lock myself in my office so that I felt completely safe, and put on a blindfold so that my vision wouldn’t draw my attention from the sounds. I listened to the noises around, making out familiar voices and footsteps... I even walked around the office without stumbling on anything, ‘cos Rung was right: I could rely on the sounds, so I didn’t need to keep my head on a swivel - and honestly, that was such an embarrassing habit of mine… - he took one hand off Skids’ side to rub at the back of his own neck and smiled in a nervous but endearing way, - I asked you to talk, and somehow it’s me talking - I hope I’m not terribly boring?

\- To be honest, Red, - Skids’s voice was low and husky because his mini boyfriend hadn’t stopped teasing him with a sponge, - you are terribly _attractive._

He waited for the red mech’s reaction, and it was as positive as it gets: the hand that hovered uncertainly near Red’s own chest reached up to Skids’ shoulder, feeling the rough texture of the tyre.

\- You can touch anything that catches your eye, - he purred suggestively. - _Anything…_

\- I’m quite at a loss here, - an experienced listener could register a flirty note in the shy mech’s voice, - so I’d rather _be_ touched. _Anywhere._

Skids’ hand slid all the way down his back, and Red Alert hid his face against the blue prominent chest.

\- Something’s wrong?

\- No, ah… ‘s okay, - an optic peeked at Skids from under the red-and-white helm; whatever part of his face was visible showed an unmistakable flush. - But I’m gonna look like a mess. I think I can trust you with my back...

It’d been a long time since Red Alert felt so protected. Skids wasn’t much taller than him, but his electromagnetic field was that of a mech who was strong and resourceful, who’d always had his comrades’ back. “I like it… - he whispered, - your back, broad and unadorned… something to rest one’s eyes upon”. Nuzzling against the back of Red’s helm, he kept talking, just like he had been asked to. “You can open up whenever you’re ready”, - Skids prompted, his fingers tracing the red parts of his stomach down to his front panel, which was beginning to feel uncomfortably tight.

Shielded from the outer world, Red Alert wasn’t anxious anymore - he was positively _thrilled._ Even if some outsider happened to walk in on them, Skids would say: “So what? Couldn’t tired mechs have some happy time together?” The theoretician’s tone would imply that it was happening entirely by his initiative, he’d take the shame and the blame just to shrug it off like those tiny rivulets of water dripping down his shoulder tyres. Red was astonished at how level-headed and non-anxious a mech could be, so casual about his most intimate affairs that he didn’t even care that people may end up discussing them at the bar.

“Gossip? You mean, 'bots implying how _envious_ they are of our carefree frag sessions? Sad lonely bots who have to use these long-handled brushes for more than one purpose?” - naturally Red couldn’t see him smirk, but his sly ironic tone and a giggle from Swerve indicated that the talk had turned onto a naughty track. Only this time it didn’t put him off in the slightest: his mind had become too unfocused, the words swirling lazily beyond its grasp like puffs of fragrant, intoxicating smoke. 

His back securely embraced and the rest of his body fondled by two pairs of hands, Red Alert saw eveything through a dreamy haze, not even noticing his panels open as he leaned into the touch, not realizing how he’d ached for that spike until its head gently parted the lips of his valve. He rocked his hips towards it, letting it slip inside, so very welcome and just the right size... 

Skids’ voice was silky music against his audio and his hands were magic, somewhat less patient but far more experienced than Rung’s. “You won’t regret it”, - he purred, adopting a smooth pace that caressed the nodes inside of Red rather than stimulated them. “You won’t regret _us_ ,” - a voice echoed from below, the unusually soft and totally-not-annoying tone of a thoroughly aroused Swerve. His lack of height played to his advantage as he turned his attention to Red’s thick colorful spike. He licked it once and twice, tasting the pre-fluids and studying the texture, and then began to prove that he didn’t have a big mouth just for talking. The sensory nodes inside it were large and plentiful, twice as many as an average mech had, which explained why he liked snacks so much and why he put his spark (and all of his intake) into working that spike, moaning around it as if it was him who was getting the most stimulation. The minibot’s hands weren’t idle either: one held onto Red’s blocky thigh, sizeable fingers rubbing the surface, the other turned to simple but reliable self-service.

Red steadied himself, legs spread wide and hands planted into the wall, even though Skids’s arms were wrapped securely around his midsection. He tried to hold still so that he wouldn’t cause any discomfort to the minibot in front of him, but it was difficult as the pace grew faster. The charge building up inside him was so intense that soon he could barely feel his own body. Closing his optics, Red Alert was reduced to the sparkbeat in his core and the tension in his groin, suspended in the hot, slick, pounding darkness.

The sounds surrounded him as always: the ambient hum of the ship, the splash and murmur of falling water, the whirring vents of his lovers and his own; huffs and moans the source of which he couldn’t quite tell apart because all three of them were so close together, practically as one - why care if he was being quiet, or the loudest? For this life’s most wonderful moment he wasn’t himself - he was _three_ , and the _fullness_ of it didn’t leave any place for fears. _In unity there’s freedom,_ \- an echo came through his mind, and he held onto that revelation like it was a key to the universe, as the pulsing star that was his spark burst into the supernova of overload.

***

\- If this is our director of security, then I wonder what our captain is like, - as always, the first sound that welcomed Red Alert to reality was Swerve’s banter. Though it didn’t feel so plaguesome, now that his mind insisted on picturing this blue visor gazing up at him, his mouth a source of bliss instead of words.

\- If you two are going to get it on with the whole command personnel, my duty would require me to… supervise, - Red scoffed, much to everyone’s surprise.

\- Wow! Looks like a sense of humor can be transmitted by fluids! Or maybe Rung should write a reseach paper: “The ultimate psychological benefits of group fragging!” I’m a willing subject!

Red found himself sitting in the corner: Skids was kneeling in front of him to scrub his breastplate, while Swerve washed his boyfriend’s upper back, holding onto a wing-like door which occasionally turned on its hinges with a little _squeak_.

\- That overload… it just _zapped_ me, - Skids grinned at the minibot before turning back to Red. - I was literally seeing stars, and my knees almost gave way! What a pitiful pile of spare parts we’d look like on the floor.

\- I thought for a moment that my head exploded! Drift would call it _karma_ , you know, if I literally did that to... to a head, - _swerving_ from sensitive topics was never an option when there was an opportunity for a joke.

\- But seriously, Swerve… what was that drink you gave Red? Any chances you added a little something for _higher conductivity?_

\- That, my friend, is none of your business, - Swerve’s impish grin perfectly betrayed him.

\- I see… Old habits die hard, - Red said teasingly. - Next time _you’re_ drinking that, and _I’m_ having a bit of revenge on your little mischievous aft! - He hadn’t quite forgiven the minibot for all his pranks, but he was quite content with the way his day ended.

* * *

...Well, almost ended. One couldn’t simply spend the night with Skids and Swerve without talking through half of it. And Red wasn’t in the state to tear himself away from their company. With no berth large enough for all three of them, they formed a cozy huddle in the corner of the room.

\- So, tomorrow is the sight-seeing day! The city’s quite mech-friendly… The most difficult part _for you, Swerve_ , would be keeping from too much cuddles. Imagine what a shocking sight it might be for the local fleshies! After all, we look like _machines_ …

\- Cuddle machines! - the minibot declared happily before returning to his newly discovered way of using his mouth on Red: sucking on one of his audial appendages.

\- C’mon, Swerve, I've just _washed_ him… you’re gonna drool all over his helm, and he might be leaking too, - Skids didn’t bother to keep envy out of his voice.

\- There’s some rags in my compartments, - Red responded in a voice that was both sleepy and quite aroused. - Under the berth too. You never know when you’re gonna need ‘em…

\- That’s some provident mech! - Skids patted his shoulder. Then he rubbed it. Then he rubbed Red’s neck for the first time, and the paranoiac dimmed his optics in pleasure.

\- What’d you think of a romantic movie night at Rewind’s? - Swerve suggested. - Just for the couples?

\- Whatever you’re up to this time, I am NOT getting fragged by Chromedome! - Red protested. - Masked people creep me out...

\- ‘Course you ain’t, I’m having a go with Domey, - Skids smirked. - We’ve already got intimate enough for a bit of memory reading. Nothing of worth here, though, - he added ironically, tapping an index against the side of his head.

\- Finally someone my own size, - Swerve flexed his fingers. - If only Tailgate haven’t hooked up with that solemn purple aft, we’d be _so_ having Mini frag parties after the movies!

\- Guess me and Rung’ll slip away at some point. Don’t wanna be filmed doing the nasty...

\- And we’re joining you later...

\- You think so? I’m the one who knows the ship’s schematics by heart! - it wasn’t often that Red had a grin on his face, let alone a particularly sly one. - And I’ll hear your steps on another deck as clearly as here.

\- So you’re up to a round of hide-and-seek, Red? You should know better that to challenge _me,_ \- Skids purred, his predatory grin inches from the audial that wasn’t occupied by Swerve. - ‘Cos when I catch you… _your aft is mine,_ \- the last part came as a whisper; then Skids’ lips closed on the sensory horn, and Red couldn’t form a coherent response anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Primus knows I've been trying to make the work coherent for a month or so, and still I feel like the sentences could be trimmed and the dialogs could sound more life-like... I probably botched the paragraphs too - don't know how to break text into bits that are considered nice and proper for English writing. If you see a way of improving anything in this department, please let me know. I also hate the way italics look on this site, but I can't do without italics, it feels like my texts lose a lot of expressivity without them, and I'm afraid that without emphasis some of the meaning could slip away. (considering that so many people can write without italics, it says so much about my writing abilities)
> 
> And I don't know how a real panic attack feels: I have a bit of social anxiety and that's it, though sometimes I'm taking a walk and there's a little panicky feeling like "What am I even doing here, why am I wasting my time away from home?" (the time I would otherwise be wasting scrolling Tumblr, but hey, there's always a small chance the Muse pays a visit). I deal with the tiny panic by putting on my headphones, the music like a barrier between me and the noisy people-filled world - works like a charm!


End file.
